


Sizzling Embers

by thejoystickofaswitch



Category: Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love Triangle, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejoystickofaswitch/pseuds/thejoystickofaswitch
Summary: A year ago, humanity changed.No one really knows the answer as to why, or even how, all they knew was the end had finally arrived--in the form of zombie-like creatures you call ‘dead ones’.For that same year, you found yourself isolated in an apartment. Nothing to do but survive until it was time to move. Unfortunately, that time came too quickly.After a dead one set the building you called home on fire, you were forced to move and find a new home.Discovering more survivors like yourself in the process.
Relationships: Asagiri Gen/Reader, Ukyo Saionji/Reader
Kudos: 3





	Sizzling Embers

Chapter 1: Darker than Smoke

\--

The apocalypse provided one tiny warning before it started: a scream. A scream, and then a gunshot. Then, an entire can of worms spilled all over the world. A mess no one could ever clean up began: people biting people, buildings catching aflame, riots for food and water became an hourly occurrence. 

Life transformed into something indescribable--something so vile it felt as if this had to be a dream and you were going to wake up. You had to. 

Quickly, you realized that sort of mentality gave you a very short lifespan. 

And for someone with a limp, that lifespan shortened even more. 

*** 

You took refuge in an abandoned apartment building, taking advantage of the high balcony and vending machines if it truly came to it. 

It felt pathetic, hiding out. You practically were becoming a hermit.

But you had to ask yourself, "What other choice do I have?" It was either hide here, only going out when there was a food shortage, or living on the constant run, using your cane as a spear. 

Only one choice led to a longer life. 

***

You knew of stories people told about being alone. How torturous it was, to be trapped with nothing but your own mind. They said it wandered, thinking about topics you wouldn't have originally thought of-- topics that made you think about other things, including darker, more intrusive thoughts.

They were completely and utterly true. 

Sitting in a room, one that was blacker than the thick smoke outside at night, gave you...ideas. Your mind became an open window; endless possibilities could have flown in, creating a void. 

For the first couple of weeks, you became desperate, ultimately learning just how much you took advantage of human contact, how it fulfilled your soul in a way nothing else really could. 

While cleaning around your apartment, you found a journal. It was empty. It was as if fate was screaming directly into your ear and told you to write. 

Poetry became an outlet you never imagined it could be. You wrote stanzas about life, the sun, the walking dead outside. 

"Usually, they limp

Kind of like me,

But does that mean

I am doomed to turn

Into a monster, too?" 

It felt good. 

Yet, you would never have expected the one thing that kept you sane to become the same thing that nearly ended your life. 

***

The smell of smoke filled the room, which was the first sign. It immediately grabbed your attention from the pages of the journal in front of you. 

Brows furrowed, you inhaled once more to assure yourself you weren't hallucinating. (It wouldn't have surprised you at that point.) You were not. Smoke was actually filling the room, and fast. 

You could feel that panicky feeling rising in your chest, and you instantly ignored it. Thinking about this too much would cause problems. 

Grabbing the cane you always had beside you, a groan came from you as your legs lifted you up. A little spike of pain went through you, traveling from your leg to your chest, as one always did when you stood. Then began your trip to the balcony. 

The balcony was small, only going outward 7 inches. Not the type one would relax on, more to observe. Similar to how you were now. 

Inching forward, the rail of the balcony found itself in your grasp as you gazed below. Nothing, from what you could see. Only tipped over garbage cans, bodies lingering from your first visit, and dying grass around the pathway to the front entrance. 

Your forehead wrinkled; what could be causing the smoke? 

Suddenly, you saw it. Orange, yellow and red out of the corner of your eye. A trash can from the corner was lit on the inside, from what you could see, paper was being burned. Paper you tossed out. 

Paper you wrote on. 

No one was there, but evidence of a fresh burn lingered. Someone was here. Near the can was grass, dead but still useful. They created footprints. Perhaps the person found signs of life and scurried as fast as they could. 

"Shit," you swore, quickly adjusting your cane to begin your trek downstairs. But, you came to a stop once your eyes landed on something else. 

A dead one. Slowly roaming around, making its way towards the lit trash can. 

Your mind spoke, and it said something useful for once. 

"If that tips over, the building will burn."

"But I'm too slow!" you replied, a bit too loudly. The dead one heard, and now its step quickened, making you curse again under your breath. 

"Then hurry," your mind replied. "Or your home will burn." 

"Shut it," you spat. "Don't you think I already know that?" 

‘Great’. You thought. ‘Now I'm creating conversations with the voice in my head.’

***

With as much speed as you could muster, you began limping down stairs, moving your cane as fast as you could, so desperately you could hear your cane making metal sounds. You have to move. You need to go faster. Faster. 

Your hand reached the front door, and your heart did a leap. You did it. 

Then, the sound of metal hitting the ground rang in your ears. 

And the smell of smoke became worse.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> -Emmy


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